Sweet Dreams
by coldqueen
Summary: Discontinued...Beginning of Season 3 revamping of the series in a What if? universe. What if T'Pol had left the Enterprise? What would have happened?
1. Left Behind

I have a rational explanation for why I am writing a fanfic about a series that is no longer on...I loved it. And I just bought the second season and it inspired me!

So, the premise of this is what if T'Pol had left Enterprise? How would that have affected things in the Delphic Expanse? How would that have affected Trip? Would they still have gotten together? Or...at least they do here...sometime...alrighty...slightly, or rather more than slightly, AU...but goes completely AU around _Proving Ground_...where shocking things will happen...this is going a bit episode by episode until then...so be patient...SMOOCHES!

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**A/N: REVISED TO BE MORE CANON! At the advice of Bucky over at _House of Tucker_, I'm revising the story. I mean major. I knew I would have to revise, but I've decided to do it earlier...like NOW! Tell me what you guys think of T'Pol. I really had to work on her. I've got Trip down, but Polly is tricky.

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**

T'Pol walked slowly down one of the many halls of her childhood home and wondered once again what had motivated the Vulcan High Command to order her off Enterprise. There had been no apparent logical reason. To T'Pol, it seemed most illogical to remove a primary department head from a starship about to undergo a serious mission. There was a very great chance that the crew would need the calming influence of her presence. Indeed, it was most likely that her colleagues would need her more than they ever had before.

In the last several months, the interactions between the crew had become obviously stressed. None more so than that of Commander Tucker and Captain Archer. T'Pol had born witness to the "cogenitor" incident and while not finding fault in Captain Archer's assessment and punishment, T'Pol could understand that the Commander had felt compelled to act. T'Pol would not have interfered in another culture the way Commander Tucker had, however. T'Pol paused in her trek towards the eating area of the house. It was plausible to think that Commander Tucker might act out of emotions in the Expanse and perhaps cause harm to himself and others. Before she had been ordered off the ship, T'Pol had noticed alarming changes in the Commander's personality. Such drastic changes, in fact, that T'Pol had almost been inclined to discuss it with him. She had never made the time to, however, and now Enterprise was long gone.

T'Pol started down the hall again and thought of her good-byes with the crew. Ensign Sato had hugged her, and while T'Pol had not fully reciprocated the woman's friendship, Ensign Sato had given her a "goodbye gift." It was a book of pictures of Ensign Sato's home country. Sato had explained, "You never got to see the best part of Earth, so I want to give it to you." T'Pol had felt inordinately...humbled by the gift.

The others who had come down to the cargo bay to wish her goodbye had given her similar things. The Captain had given her a copy of "Moby Dick" in a crude paperback casing with an ill-drawn whale on the front, promising her that she'd enjoy it, which T'Pol doubted highly. Lieutenant Reed had given T'Pol a book as well, this time one of the history of England, his home country. He too had explained that he wanted T'Pol to know of what he considered the most beautiful but "sometimes bloody dreary" place on Earth. T'Pol had found it interesting that both Ensign Sato and Lieutenant Reed had given her gifts of similar topic.

It was Ensign Mayweather's gift that T'Pol had enjoyed receiving most. It was a crudely made framed picture, showing the primary crew standing on the stairs the day Enterprise had been launched. Most of them stood close, Captain Archer with his arm around Commander Tucker, Ensign Sato and MAyweather laughing about something that Lieutenant Reed had said. T'Pol was standing slightly aloft and separate from them, and the picture reminded T'Pol of the situation at hand. T'Pol boarded the shuttlepod and refused to acknowledge a niggling thought. He had not come to say goodbye.

"T'Pol?"

"Yes, mother?" T'Pol asked moving through the eating area and into the kitchen.

"Are you well?"

T'Pol turned slowly around and cocked her head a bit to the side. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You seem...restless." T'Mir studied her daughter in a vaguely disapproving manner.

T'Pol decided that a little confession would ease her mother's mind. In later years, her mother had seemed so much older than she and it disconcerted T'Pol to realize that her mother was nearing the end of her life. "If I am disturbing you, I apologize. I will meditate longer tonight and perhaps tomorrow."

"I don't think that will help. Would you like to speak of it?"

T'Pol thought for a moment as she moved around the kitchen, preparing a bowl of plomeek soup. Finally, she spoke. "I do not...fit."

T'Mir's face softened. "You have not reacclimated to Vulcan. In a few days, you will find a rhythm to your life again and your schedule will settle."

"If I were still on Enterprise, there would be no reason for me to reacclimate," T'Pol stated.

"T'Pol. Do not question your superiors. They are doing what is correct in the situation. We cannot condone the humans going into hostile territory with the mission of stop the threat. Humans are violent. Their mission dangerous. They have already proven to the High Command that they are incapable of controlling themselves. It is not likely they will return from the Delphic Expanse."

T'Pol sat down at the table with her plomeek soup and studied her mother as over the table top. "More reason that I should have continued to serve on their ship. They will need a calm voice in that situation."

T'Mir reached out as if to pat her daughter's hand but stopped before touching. "The situation cannot be remedied. They have continued on and you are here. You must adapt and move on."

T'Pol watched her mother leave the room and continued to sip her soup. She was trying. If only her mother knew how hard T'Pol was trying.

* * *

Fifty lightyears away, Trip was angry. Not that this was unusual. Even before the Xindi attack, he had had trouble with his temper. A particular Vulcan lady had always managed to make it spike and then make it go away. She was gone and the engineering crew was regretting that fact greatly. It used to be amusing to watch the Commander and the Sub-commander go at it, him yelling, her calmly arguing back. Now though, it was scary. Since the Commander's sister had been killed, he had been vicious. Once they entered the Expanse, he had become worse. Now he was practically livid constantly. Nothing was ever good enough for the Commander now, and everything and everyone in Engineering was beginning to show signs of cracking.

At the moment, Commander Tucker was yelling at Rostov about a misaligned power couplet. No one was even quite sure why he was so upset. The power couplet had been in a no longer used storage facility that was being revamped to more crew quarters. They weren't even occupied yet. The Commander had been doing a surprise check and had found the misalignment and basically gone nuts.

"Someone could have died, Lieutenant! That power couplet would have overloaded during an attack, and bam! One of your friends is all over the wall! Do you want that Rostov!"

"No, sir!"

"Do I make myself understood to you...no, TO EVERYONE! That there will be no more mistakes in this department!"

A chorus rang up in response. "YESSIR!"

"Good! Get back to work!" Trip stormed into his office, silently wishing that Starfleet still used swinging doors so that he could slam it. He could not, though, so he settled for slamming around his office.

After ten minutes of that, he finally sat down and threw his arms over his head to block out the light. He had a migraine, a stomach ache (probably due to the fact that he hadn't eaten in several days), and was in a bad mood. It wasn't even the Delphic Expanse or the freaky anomalies causing havoc...he hadn't said good bye. She was completely gone from the ship and his life and he hadn't even made the effort to tell her good bye; hadn't made the time to even see her. Just like Lizzy.

Before these past couple of months, he would have been cool with her leaving. He always had the captain to talk to, but after what happened with the Vissians, he and the captain had kind of become estranged with each other. They no longer ate dinner together; in fact, when they didn't have to, they barely spoke. Sometimes the captain would try to be friendly, but that was before the Xindi attack and after that nothing had been the same.

Of course, there was Malcolm, the only other person on the ship he considered a close friend, but Trip didn't want to talk to Mal. Don't get him wrong though! Malcolm was a good friend, but there were some things you can't discuss with the man. T'Pol had become his closest confidante...and then she abandoned him in his greatest hour of need.

The comm. beeped underneath his head and startled Trip out of the light doze he'd unwittingly entered. "Yeah?" He asked groggily after pushing a few random buttons.

"Commander Tucker? I would like to request your presence here in sickbay for a few minutes," Phlox's grinning voice boomed out, practically bringing sunshine and happiness with it...which Trip's sourness wiped out with grunt.

"What for?"

"Physical. All crew is required."

"I'm a little busy, doc. How about later?"

"How about now," Phlox said in a firm voice that brokered no resistance but still conveyed the good ole doctor happiness.

"Yeah, sure. I ain't got nothin' better to do considerin' that I'm the chief engineer on the ship that s'posed to save humanity and all."

"Good, see you in a few minutes."

* * *

Three weeks after returning to Vulcan, T'Pol moved out of her mother's home. With her father deceased, her mother preoccupied with work, and herself adjusting to life back on her homeworld, T'Pol had made the logical decision to seek her own space, where she could finally experience living alone. T'Pol had never done such a thing, having gone from home to school to the Embassy and straight into service with the High Command. Not once had she ever been given the privilege of having her own space, and her own things.

As T'Pol returned to the small flat she had decided to rent she fought the urge to call her mother and inform her of the abysmal circumstances she was in. It seemed her reputation had spread and most of the Vulcans she worked with were loath to come near, fearing that humanity's taint would spread. T'Pol did not understand how an intelligent, logical being could react with such hostility to new things. Had Vulcans not learned anything from their predecessors? If you shun new ideas, they only take root in the dark soil of secrecy and soon reach their strong arms for the sky. By forbidding something, you only encourage it to spread and grow.

T'Pol removed the thick, steadfast robes required of her and silently lamented for her old uniform, the one she'd worn on Enterprise. With the heat of Vulcan and the combination of the robes, just moving was a struggle for T'Pol. Not only that, but the air on Vulcan was lighter than it was on Enterprise, sometimes leaving the petite Vulcan lightheaded when she moved too fast.

Sinking into the thickly-cushioned lounge chair (one of few luxuries T'Pol allowed herself from her childhood home) T'Pol went through her electronic messages. She had three. One from her mother, and one from The Vulcan Science Directorate reminding her of a staff meeting tomorrow (apparently spending time with humans makes a Vulcan forgetful, or so the administration believes as they seem to send her a reminder for every little thing). The last message was from Kos. He did not say what he wished to speak of, but informed her that he would call on her the following day.

T'Pol played the message again and pondered what he wished to speak of. Did he want to reinitiate their betrothal? Skip the betrothal all together and be mated? Or did he want to annul the betrothal? Any of those was an option and the only options. She had nothing else with which to speak with him about. Why did he wish to see her now? Why had he waited so long to contact her?

T'Pol wanted to be able to discuss the situation with someone, but the only person she might even think of discussing it with was her mother, who believed that T'Pol had been illogical by not marrying Kos. T'Pol sat back and stared out the side window at the setting sun. It burned bright red and gold. It was aesthetically pleasing if you were into that sort of thing. As T'Pol had once told Commander Tucker, pleasing to the eye does not mean as much as pleasing to the mind.

Commander Tucker. T'Pol looked at her monitor. It was not implausible for her to contact him. He was one of the few people who knew the situation between her and Kos. He would help her discern why Kos was calling on her.

T'Pol used the Vulcan automated switchboard to connect with the Starfleet switchboard and requested a connection with Enterprise. The operator recognized T'Pol and did as the beautiful woman asked. As she waited for the connection to be made T'Pol studied her mirror image in the now blank screen. At her mother suggestion, T'Pol had allowed her hair to grow out. T'Mir believed that a change in appearance would help impress on T'Pol that she was among her own people now and must act accordingly. T'Pol, at first, believed this to be an illogical idea. How would it help her readjust to society if she was allowing her hair to grow beyond regulation length for a Science Officer?

When Ensign Sato's pre-recorded voice came on and brought her attention back to the matter at hand, T'Pol entered a set of numbers and waited while the other end of the connection "rang". For several minutes nothing happened and T'Pol was on the verge of disconnecting when Commander Tucker answered.

"Yeah?" He asked surly, dripping wet having just gotten out of the shower.

"Commander?"

"T'Pol?" He asked stunned, setting his bare ass (it was a pretty small towel he grabbed) on his seat before jumping back up at the cold sensation. "Hold on!" He scrambled out of the camera's scope and threw on a pair of pajama bottoms. "Why are you calling me?" He asked while putting them on, not noticing how rude he sounded.

"If you'd prefer I not, I can disconnect-..."

"No! I'm just curious," Trip hurriedly explained as he sat back down in the chair in front of his desk and studied T'Pol. It has been four weeks since the last time he'd saw her and he was...calmed...just by the sight of her. How had he ever thought that he disliked this woman? She was his best friend. He missed her. "I missed you. No one else argues like you."

"You've been arguing?"

"Yes, often. My people have become sloppy, and I'm tryin' to get 'em back up to standard. Though, now that you mention it, Ensign Trolli did cry."

"Maybe you should choose your words more carefully. It is not your goal to cause your subordinates to weep. It is your goal to impress upon them the importance of their job and not making mistakes."

Trip burst out laughing for the first time in weeks. It was so good to be talking to a friend without restraints again. "Yeah, and maybe taking more showers would help, too. Where you at?"

T'Pol shifted in her seat. "Vulcan."

"How's the weather?"

"It is 40 degrees Celsius and a humidity of fifty percent."

"Yeah...perfect 25 degrees Celsius here. Bet you miss it, right?"

"I miss Porthos more."

Trip laughed again and started to make a smart-alacky remark but was interrupted by the door comm. beeping. "Hold on."

T'Pol watched as the Commander rose from his seat (giving her a bird's eye view of his amazing stomach muscles) and moved out of screen. From off-screen he suddenly shouted, "Goddamnit Phlox!" and caused T'Pol to jump. She could hear the vague rumblings of an argument then the Commander came back on-screen, a food tray in hand. He set it on the table and glared at it. Since he seemed to forget she was there, she asked, "What is that?"

"Food tray. 'Parently I need to eat more. Or so Phlox says."

T'Pol studied Trip and agreed with Phlox's diagnosis. Trip had bags under his eyes and was almost gaunt looking in his face. She'd seen his stomach up close and that too was getting thin. "You look emaciated."

"Well, thank you very much. That really helps."

"Eat."

"I'll wait 'til we're done talkin', thanks," he replied sarcastically, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly.

"I don't believe you. Eat now," T'Pol said with something to an order in her eyes.

"Would I be immature enough to-..."

"I still have a higher rank than you, Commander. Eat."

"Fine!" Trip said sulking and pulling the tray to him. Meat loaf, mash potatoes, and baby carrots with peach pie for dessert. Yummy. Trip shoveled food into his mouth and before long found that he did have an appetite. He went through all the food in minutes and was savoring the dessert when T'Pol moved and garnered his attention. "Happy?"

"I am satisfied that you have sufficiently eaten."

Trip thought for a minute and grinned. "Yeah...I was a bit hungry."

T'Pol nodded.

"Tha's nice. You call me up and-...hey, why did you call?"

"I wanted to speak with you about a private matter."

Trip leaned forward suggestively and wiggled his eyebrows. "Talk away."

"I'd prefer it if you would take this matter more seriously."

Trip sat back and studied T'Pol. "Yeah, sure."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "How do I know you're going to be serious?"

Trip pouted. "Is this the face of a liar?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow.

Trip ignored her implication. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"I am...having trouble discerning the motivations of a certain person in my life."

"Who?"

"Kos."

"What's that scumbag want?"

"He is not a 'scumbag', Commander."

"Tried to make you marry him with force, didn' he?"

"Ha had every right to remind me of my duties," T'Pol reprimanded the Commander. He shrugged.

"What does he want?"

"I do not know. He has set up a meeting tomorrow but has not informed me of what he wishes to speak about."

"Probably wants you to marry him," Trip said snidely, not quite sure why the thought bothered him. Here he was, talking to T'Pol after a month and all he could do was start fights.

"I believe it has something to do with that."

"What do you want him to talk to you about?"

T'Pol considered. "I do not believe it would be logical for us to reinitiate our betrothal. Over two years have passed and any legal hold he had on me through that has lapsed."

Trip smiled. "So the big bad wolf can't get ya?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "The big bad wolf?"

Trip leaned forward and finished off the tea on his tray. "Yeah. Kids story. Don't you got those on Vulcan?"

"Yes."

Trip had a sudden idea to keep T'Pol on the line longer. "Tell me a story."

T'Pol cocked her head. "A story?"

"Yeah. Call it an early birthday gift."

"Your 'birthday' was three months ago."

"A really, really early birthday gift."

"What kind of story?"

"A fairy tale."

"I don't-..."

"Make one up."

T'Pol thought for a moment and instead decided to tell the story of Lovil, a heroine of her childhood. "Approximately two hundred Earth years ago, there was a priestess of Mount Seleya named Lovil. Historic accounts say that she was quite aesthetically pleasing, but being destined to be a priestess she was not bound to anyone. When her temple was destroyed by a Romulan destroyer, she decided to leave the religious way and become a scientist. Because of this, she was suddenly sought as a mate by many powerful and influential males of the time. She would not have any of them, however, and decided to continue her abstinence. She never mated and inevitably died from the Pon Farr."

Trip stared at T'Pol in a disconcerting way. "That was a fairy tale."

"I suppose. It often inspired me as a child."

"Which part?"

"She defied tradition and remained mateless."

"Her dyin' alone inspired you?"

"It does."

"Okay," Trip said, yawning, though not falsely. T'Pol could tell that he was tired, as humans were ill-equiped to hide their emotions.

"You should sleep."

"Yeah, that's what Phlox says."

"I will contact Captain Archer for news of the mission."

"T'Pol? You'll call back won' you?" Trip asked, his eyes already drooping as he leaned back in his chair.

T'Pol thought it over. It was not a logical idea. If she did, the basis for doing so would be firmly in the emotional category. Unless, as she planned, all they talked about was the ship's health. If that was what they spoke of then it would not be illogical at all. It is perfectly reasonable that a former colleague would contact another for advice on how to handle the stressful situation unfolding in deep space on the ship. T'Pol knew that if anyone, though as unlikely it seemed, tried to make something inappropriate out of her and Trip contacting each other, it would come to no fruition. T'Pol had nothing to hide.

"Yes. Tomorrow," T'Pol replied.

"Good. Sweet dreams, darlin'."

T'Pol waited until the screen was blank before replying. "Sweet dreams, Commander."

* * *

Okay, so that was the first chapter! YAY! MORE TO COME! REVIEWS WELCOME! FYI...I'm modifying most of Season 3 epis to suit my story but I'm afraid _Carpenter Street_ is not going to be used...too difficult what with it being an Archer/T'Pol story...let's just say that I already have the story mapped out up until _Proving Ground_ and the updates will come fast! 


	2. The Xindi

OKAY! We're now going episode by episode so...watch out! Here comes the first...and for those who asked...the first chapter was a set-up chapter...this is actually the first episode now.

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The Xindi-**REVISED

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**

Trip levied himself up the ladder onto the second level of engineering and silently prayed for patience. "Rostov, are those antimatter relays striped yet?"

Rostov looked guilty. "No. I'm having some difficulty with removing the platinum."

"Why didn't you ask for help?"

"You've been in a better mood lately but we're all still a little...wary."

Trip thought on that. _Wary? I knew I'd been testy but didn' think that I'd put the fear of death into them._ "S'okay, lieutenant. Let's work on it together. The cap'n needs it by the time we go back down there to meet the Xindi." Trip gestured for Rostov to move to the side a little and starts to use a laser scalpel to heat the outside of a relay.

"Sir? Is there really a possibility that we're going to be done with our mission this quickly? I mean, we've only been in the expanse a month."

Trip smiled. "Don' know. If the Xindi down there can tell us where his home world is, maybe. That would be good for the crew. I know I'm sure damn tired of this place."

Rostov smiled back and Trip felt like he was finally getting back on even footing with his team. Then, there was a small explosion on the other side of engineering. "What the hell is goin' on over there?" Trip yelled, dropping the scalpel and burning his hand.

"Sorry, Commander! There was a flux in the grid that we weren't prepared for! We'll take care of it!" Ensign Rolli shouted back. She gave a nervous smile before running back to where the explosion had come from. Trip turned back to the relays and noticed that Rostov was standing a lot stiffer than before.

"What's with you?"

"Nothing, sir."

Trip sighed. "Look, you take care of this. As long as you're careful with it and keep the temp steady at 300º you should be good. I'm going to catch a couple hours sleep." Trip left engineering in a rush and grabbing a cup of coffee from the mess hall, went to his quarters and locked himself in. _When had his entire team become scared of him?_

Suddenly he felt old, very old. He and the captain were scheduled to be back down on the planet in three hours and while Rostov was skilled enough to have enough platinum ready by then, Trip wasn't sure if he, himself, was going to be ready. Every time he heard mention of a Xindi or the "incident", he wanted to put his hand through a wall...or someone's head. He hid it though, knowing that if the captain knew this then he wouldn't let Trip go on missions.

Trip sighed and leaned back in his chair and decided to try a long shot. Punching a few buttons, he waited for Hoshi's voice to come through. "Yes, Commander?"

"Hosh, I need a live feed to this location," Trip explained as he input T'Pol's house number.

"Give me a few minutes, Commander. Hey, isn't this Vulcan?"

Trip gritted his teeth. "Yes."

"Okay."

_What no questions, Hoshi? You know you want to ask them. Lord knows, this ship can't go a week without fresh gossip. So what if I've talked to T'Pol almost every night for three weeks? We're friends. That's it._

"Commander, your connection is going through." Hoshi's voice cut through Trip's inner rant.

"Thanks Hoshi."

Trip waited while the terminal on the other end buzzed. He knew it was unlikely that he would get her, it was the middle of the day there and she was probably at work or out or-

"Yes?"

"T'Pol?" Trip asked surprised.

She raised one eyebrow. "Yes?"

"What are you doing home this time of day?"

"Why are you calling me this time of day?"

"I...needed to talk to someone."

"About?"

"Did you change your hair? Looks good."

T'Pol ignored his compliment and made a mental note to get her hair trimmed. "What would you like to talk about, Commander?"

"Oh...nothing much. I hate the Xindi and I have to go on a mission in three hours to interrogate one and I'm afraid I'm goin' to do somethin' unbecomin' of a Starfleet officer." T'Pol leaned back in her seat and gestured for him to go on. "They killed my sister, T'Pol. I don' know if I can handle this." Trip couldn't even look at T'Pol as he said this.

"You have excellent control, Commander. I have no doubt that you will handle this situation in the right manner."

"How can you have such trust in me?"

"I don't."

Trip looked up. "What?"

"I have trust in your mind, but not your heart. You would like to harm and possibly kill this Xindi, but obviously your mind recognizes that the captain believes this Xindi will be able to help."

"He can probably tell us where his homeworld is."

"See?"

Trip leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah. I just don' know if-..."

"Commander?"

"Yeah?"

"Trust me. You can do this."

_When had her eyes become kind? When had she ever made him feel like he could do anything?_ _When had she ever seemed so tired? _"What's wrong with you?"

T'Pol stiffened in her seat and studied the commander with a cool gaze. "Excuse me?"

"You don' look good. You looked tired or worried or somethin' like that."

"There is nothing wrong with me, Commander," T'Pol stated forcefully, a little too forcefully.

"You can tell me, T'Pol. I won' tell anyone else. I've confided in wit' you. Don' you trust me?"

T'Pol looked at the Commander for a minute. Staring at a PADD, she explained her distraction. "I have a meeting in ten minutes with Admiral Forrest. He has heard of my resigning my commission with the High Command and has requested a meeting."

"Wait! What? You retired your commission? Why would you do somethin' like that? That's why you left Enterprise in the first place!"

"I...found that working on Vulcan no longer holds the advantages it once did. Logically, I am seeking another position."

"You should've stayed on Enterprise. But s'okay. We both know you miss me anyways."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow and ignored the comment about her 'missing him'. "I regret that I must disconnect. I believe the Admiral is here."

"'Kay. Call me back, or I'll call you when I get back from the mission...which I won' mess up by killing the informant."

T'Pol looked at Trip in obvious disapproval of his joke. "Commander."

Trip waited for her to disconnect before replying with a sigh. "T'Pol."

* * *

T'Pol had not been expecting Commander Tucker to call. She had been lightly meditating in preparation of her meeting when the chime had interrupted her peace. She had not been entirely inconvenienced by it, however. It had been calming to be distracted from thoughts of her future. If Commander Tucker was good at anything it was distracting her.

T'Pol rose to answer her doorbell and wondered if her attire was appropriate. Preferring her bodysuits to the heavy robes traditional on Vulcan, she had chosen a bright fuchsia one that was a favorite of her's.

T'Pol opened the door and was not prepared for the sight of the admiral, now seemingly much aged since the last time she had saw him, on Earth, three months after the Xindi Incident. "Admiral, welcome to Vulcan."

"You know, that's the fourth or fifth time someone has said that to me, but I think you're the only one who meant it. Hello, Sub-commander."

T'Pol gestured for him and his two aides to enter and corrected him immediately. "As I'm sure you're aware I am Sub-commander no longer."

The admiral sank into T'Pol's couch and sighed. "Yes, very aware. In fact, this is why I'm here. Do you have any coffee, Sub-co-...T'Pol?"

"Yes, I acquired some in anticipation of your want. It is my experience that most humans prefer it over Vulcan tea."

"Thank you," the admiral stated as T'Pol handed out small mugs of coffee to himself and his aides. The aides murmured 'thank you's and took a quick sip before setting them aside and pulling papers from their knapsacks. "Let's get to the point T'Pol. I want you to come work for Starfleet."

T'Pol settled herself into the one recliner in the room. "You do?"

"Yes. In aftermath of the Xindi Incident, the public is becoming very hostile very fast to alien species. I believe your working for Starfleet will help assuage some fears of the people that all aliens are out to 'get us'."

"You do not believe that my working for Starfleet will be further proof for the xenophobic of your planet that we are indeed taking over?"

"No. I think it will do the opposite. You worked on Enterprise for three years. It is a logical thought that you would like to continue working with humans...and a public statement saying so would help too."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow and thought out loud. "So you wish to use me as a publicity stunt?"

"No! You would have an actual job. You would be working for us. You would not be used in any way and your superior skills are a great motivator too."

T'Pol studied the Admiral. "You've spoken of this with my government?"

The Admiral scoffed. "No. I wanted your answer first."

"I will have to think on it. Many on Vulcan will not take kindly to someone of my caliber working for humans; they will see it as a betrayal, if not treason."

"They don't want to work with you, we do. Think long and hard, young lady, on your future."

T'Pol gave the Admiral a sharp look. "Young lady? Admiral, I am older than you."

The Admiral smiled. "You don't look it."

T'Pol knew that humans would consider that a compliment. She responded with a traditional human, "Thank you."

Rising, the Admiral moaned a bit. "Getting old. Think on it, T'Pol. It is a great opportunity."

T'Pol showed the trio out and went back to the center of her apartment where she had set up a sort of living room. The papers the aides had took out of their bags still sat there and T'Pol could see now that they were newspapers. The cover of every one of them was talking about alien attacks and the rising hysteria in the wake of the attack. T'Pol studied the barren landscape out her window and relaxed. Right now, in her flat, all alone, Earth wasn't sounding too bad. She would have to meditate long and deep about this proposition, though. It was very likely that if she did take this position, then she would not be welcome on Vulcan. Not that she was very welcome now.

* * *

Trip pulled himself farther up the vertical air vent and silently cursed the captain. It had been the captain who decided to trust the Foreman, and the captain who got them trapped in the underground holding cells for the workers. Now, they were climbing story after story of tunnel ladder with a Xindi-primate named Kessick who smelled like death wrapped in a burning rubber. Kessick also happened to be between the captain and Trip so there was no way for Trip to reach up and cause the captain to accidentally fall to his death.

Suddenly, below them, a strange noise started to occur. Trip looked down and saw a bright light coming towards him. "What's going on!"

Kessick looked down. "Oh, no."

"What!" Archer yells back.

"They've opened the vents!"

"So!"

"The vents are leading to a large, magma-filled cavern...with super hot air!"

"So!" Trip asked again.

"We're going to be burned to death if we don't reach a maintenance hatch!" Kessick said, now scrambling up the ladder. He forced Archer to go faster and left Trip to hurry behind.

"Where is it at?" Archer asked, moving as fast as he could, sweat pouring down his face, whether from exertion or the hotter and hotter air surrounding him, he didn't know.

"There...that small circle in the wall! Push it as hard as you can...now!"

"Alright! Hold on!" Archer steadied himself against the ladder and started pushing as hard as he could. Try as he might, it would budge. Pulling himself up beside the captain, Kessick joined his strength with the captain's and together they got the small hatch to open. Both jumped in and Kessick began to close the door.

"Wait for me!" Trip yelled as he started to come closer to the hatch.

"What are you doing?" The captain demanded as Kessick continued to close the door.

"There's no time to wait!" Kessick explained, only to be pushed aside as the captain opened the door and leaned out to help Trip in. They both fell to the floor and watched as Kessick struggled to get the door shut. Hot air was pouring in and almost synchronously scooted back as their feet started to get hot. Kessick let out a moan as the door started to heat and finally got it shut and locked.

Turning, he practically hissed at the two humans on the floor. "Look! Look what you made me do!" He showed him his hands, now severely burned where he had closed the door. "You should have let me lock him out! Then this wouldn't have happened!"

"This man is my friend and I would never have done that! I'm not that kind of man," the captain gritted through his teeth. "Now, what? We're stuck in what smells like a sewage pipe."

Kessick gritted his teeth right back. "That's cause it is." Kessick walked off down the tunnel, holding his burned hands close to his body. Captain Archer followed and Trip slowly rose from the water to follow. _If only T'Pol could smell me now.

* * *

_

Kessick didn't make it, but Trip felt little sympathy for the man. True, he did give them the coordinates of his homeworld, but looking out his quarters' window, Trip felt ripped off. There was no planet here, and they were at the same standstill they'd been in days before. With a mission they had no way to complete. They were supposed to be out here, taking care of the Xindi problem! They'd been in the Delphic Expanse for six weeks and they'd met a total of one Xindi. Now Phlox was telling them that there were five different Xindi species! How were they to know which one was attacking Earth? How would they recognize all of them?

Trip turned at the beep of his consul and debated answering. No, tonight, he was nowhere near ready to tell T'Pol that they wouldn't be back for a longer time. He doubted he could take the disappointment...his, not her's.

* * *

Haha! What do we think? I'm evil, yes? I know... 


	3. Anomaly

The ship was silent...most of the crew was asleep but a select few were busy contemplating the disaster of a day they'd all been put through. Trip had spent a majority of the day scrambling around engineering, trying to repair the damage the recurring anomalies were causing. More and more often they appeared, causing walls to morph out of shape and the wiring behind them to morph with them; sometimes things would just rearrange themselves entirely. In cargo bay two, all the cartons and boxes stored there were currently floating because anti-grav plating had gone off line.

In other parts of the ship, the other primary members of the crew were doing much the same. With the situation today, an abandoned ship, a prisoner, a fight, disappearing supplies and planets, and the captain threatening people, the atmosphere was tense at best. The real problem of the day for Trip was that he hadn't spoken to T'Pol in a week. It seemed whenever he called, she wasn't there, and vice versa.

Trip settled into his office for a small break and left the running of engineering to his people for a while. He picked up the PADD nearby and studied it. The Osaarians had taken three of their plasma injectors and almost all of their deuterium. The deuterium was already back in its place but he'd have to take the engine off line to put the plasma injectors back. That would take about an hour to do. Trip would love to wait until morning but knew that if he did so the captain would have a fit, and Trip was no where near stupid enough to do that right now.

Earlier, as Malcolm told him, the captain had been trying to get info out of their prisoner, Orgath, when the captain had, as Malcolm put it, "snapped". Dragging the alien from the brig, the captain had thrust him into an air lock and threatened to put the man out. Malcolm said the captain had had his hand on the open button when the Osaarian cracked. It was being said that the captain was cracking under the pressure. No one knew for sure the captain's state of mind. Right now, the captain was locked in his office, and, according to Hoshi, was reading through the info she'd gotten from the Osaarian database. The Xindi were mentioned and that was enough to have the captain interested.

Trip knew that it was their mission, but the captain was beginning to worry him. Trip knew that a few people worried about him as well, but everyone on board worried for the captain. Jon was looking increasingly and increasingly older and more drawn. Maybe he should have a talk with him, for old time's sake.

Trip thought that was a mighty good idea and headed up to the bridge. It was, if possible, even drearier there. There was an Ensign from security at Malcolm's post, and Hoshi was at her post as well. Travis was presumably taking his break and the captain was in his ready room. What disconcerted Trip most, however, was the man sitting at T'Pol's station. One of the last things she'd done before leaving was pick someone to take over her post. While doing an adequate job, the captain had been heard to say that the boy couldn't cock his eyebrow like T'Pol.

Trip hesitated going right to the ready room and instead headed over to Hoshi. "How ya doin' Hosh?"

"Holding up, Commander."

"We still around the freaky cloaked planet?"

"Yes, the captain has Ensign Doherty doing scans," Hoshi gave a small strained smile at Trip as he leaned against her console. Unlike the other key positions on board, she didn't have anyone who could do her job for her. There were a few who could do it for a short time, but for a job like translating the Osaarian database, only she would do. So, no break for Hoshi.

"Doherty?" Trip asked, confused.

"T'Pol's replacement?" Hoshi asked, surprised he didn't remember the new science officer's name; he had been at every major meeting for the last seven weeks.

"Oh, yeah. Hey, Doherty!" Trip called, getting a surprised and stiff wave in return. "How's the captain?"

"He was a little testy earlier but he's talking to T'Pol right now, so I'm hoping that will help his mood."

_Oh? So she can talk to the captain but not me_? Trip scowled at her answer and glared at the door. _Apparently, a surly captain is more interesting than a surly engineer.

* * *

_

"I lost it. He made me so angry and I just wanted to make him tell me what I needed to know!" Archer said forcefully as he paced before the monitor. T'Pol sat serenely in the image projected and studied the captain who had been ranting like this for near a half hour.

"Captain? Do you regret what you did?"

"That's it, T'Pol...I don't. I did what I had to do," Archer finally stopped pacing and sat in his desk chair. He looked so defeated that T'Pol sought to reassure him.

"Then do not feel bad. If you feel you did the right thing, then you probably did, or at least what is right to you."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a philosophical debate. The right thing is perceptional. To the Osaarians, taking your supplies and machinery, was the right thing. To you, threatening to torture a man was the right thing. To some, outright torturing him would have been right. Vulcans have done a lot worse things, captain, and never gave a thought to apologizing or guilt."

"Yeah...it still gets to me though. Is Orgoth right? Will I become more and more ruthless as we go farther into the expanse? Will I eventually turn into a monster like him and his captain?"

"No." Archer looked sharply at T'Pol at her succinct answer. "You have something they don't."

"What?"

"A connection to your people, a crew that will keep you from doing things too bad, and me."

"You'll keep me from becoming evil, hundreds of light years away?" The captain said, amused despite himself.

"Hundreds is an exaggeration but yes. I will."

"Well, thank god for that. Are you in a shuttle?"

T'Pol was mildly surprised that the captain recognized the inside of a Vulcan shuttle when to her knowledge he'd never been in one. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I have a meeting on the _Selare_," T'Pol explained, referring to the Vulcan vessel carrying Admiral Forrest, though the captain wouldn't know that.

"About?"

"About the possibility of my working for Starfleet."

Archer leaned back and stared at T'Pol in complete astonishment. His bad mood was gone, all his talking with T'Pol helping him to overthrow the dark wave of self-hatred that had threatened to overwhelm. "Really? Starfleet?"

"Yes. Admiral Forrest believes I might be able to help matters on Earth."

Captain Archer sobered. "Are they still rioting?"

"No. That has finally stopped. Now, though, the Admiral and Starfleet are worried about reports of a group within Starfleet trying to usurp power and close relations with all other alien species."

"No, really?" Archer asked, interested beyond normal. Out here, in the Delphic Expanse, there wasn't really much of anything to do. Maybe he should talk to Trip about reinstating movie night, or something like that.

"Yes, and they are succeeding. In the last riot, two Denobulans were injured, as well as one of the last Vulcans on Earth."

"Vulcan has completely removed its presence? How will this affect your taking the position?"

T'Pol studied the panel in front of her and answered. "I have not decided yet to take the position, but if I did, it would be my choice, not my government's."

"So they would have no say in it?" Archer asked skeptical.

"They have approached me with their doubts and warnings," (threats, T'Pol silently thought to herself), "but they have not yet convinced me not to take the position," Archer grinned, "but neither has Starfleet convinced me to." That wiped the grin from his face.

"If you did take the post, when we come back to Earth you could get reassigned to Enterprise."

T'Pol nodded. "I think that that might be a 'perk'. How is my replacement performing?"

"He doesn't disagree with me. It's disconcerting. I'm used to my science officer being mouthy with her opinions, and he barely speaks," Archer said cheekily.

T'Pol raised her eyebrow in indignation. "Mouthy?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's a nice mouth," Archer explained. _Am I flirting with T'Pol? Damn, the situation must really be taking it's toll on me. I haven't flirted with_ _her like this since...before I got the news about Earth._

"I think that was a compliment, and it is human custom to give one in return. I will admit that I enjoyed your...long-winded lectures more than most others would."

Archer snorted. "Long-winded? When have I ever-..." BEEP! The doorbell chimed. "Hold on, T'Pol...Enter!"

Archer watched as his tall, thin engineer walked in, a slight stiffness to his body signaling that Trip was upset about something. "Can I talk to you, captain?"

"Sure thing. Eh, T'Pol, I'll talk to you later about that position. You should take it."

"It appears everyone has an interest in what I'm doing, captain. I look forward to our next conversation. Give Commander Tucker a salutation from me." T'Pol disconnected and left the two men alone. They studied each other and mutually decided to ignore the still dicey subject of their friendship and what is was now.

"T'Pol says hey."

"Yeah, I heard. Umm...look, cap'n, the crew is worried. You ain't been yourself lately and moral is already low..."

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that. I've decided that it's time to reinstate movie night. I think that it will ease up the atmosphere and anything else you can think of that might help moral a bit would be good."

Trip nodded and gestured with his PADD. "Yeah, but today, cap'n-..."

"Is that the repair list?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see it?"

Trip nodded and handed the PADD over. "Sure, look-..."

"You need to take the engines offline?" The captain asked, studying the list before him with a critical eye.

"Yeah, the plasma injectors have to be finely tuned or else everything will screw up." Trip explained, having thoroughly lost the point of why he was there.

"For how long?"

"Bout an hour."

"Good. Get started on that right away. I want to be at warp by 0600. Make sure you get some sleep after that, Commander. You're not looking too good. Have you seen the doctor?"

"Yeah, he gave me somethin'."

"Good, dismissed."

Trip left the ready room, not even realizing until he was in the turbolift that the captain hadn't answered any questions about himself and his behavior today. Instead, once again, he had deflected all questions back to Trip. Wasn't that the beauty of a good friendship? The captain could tell all his secrets to T'Pol, and none to him.

* * *

T'Pol was led through the _Selare_ and into a small dining room off the main one. Inside, Admiral Forrest and his ever-present aides were already sitting. At the Admiral's gesture, T'Pol took a seat across from him.

"Welcome, T'Pol. Was your flight up good?" The Admiral continued in his charade of niceness that T'Pol weary of ignoring.

"It was adequate."

"Yes, well. Good. We have taken the liberty of ordering you plomeek soup for dinner, we will be having it as well," the Admiral smiled congenially. T'Pol could tell, however, that he wanted to grit his teeth. It had to be hard for the humans, T'Pol supposed, to have to be vegetarian while traveling on a Vulcan ship. From her experiences with Captain Archer and Commander Tucker, humans who ate meat enjoyed it immensely.

All through dinner, the small talk continued, until T'Pol could feel a mild head ache stir in her head. She did not have to monitor and concentrate on control as much when she dined with Soval. Tired of talking around the point of her traveling to the ship, T'Pol decided to be blunt. "Why does Starfleet want me to go to Earth?"

Admiral Forrest looked at her in a startled way. "What do you mean?"

"The real reason? Surely, you don't need me to help you appease the public. If anything, my accepting a position will infuriate them more. There is logically an ulterior motive to your offering."

"Archer warned me you were smarter than you seemed."

"Not smarter, simply more logical."

"There is no real ulterior motive. It's quite clear to some people."

"It's not clear to me. Enunciate it for me," T'Pol set down her spoon and sat back to prepare for this bit of information. The Admiral and his aides did likewise.

"There are some in Starfleet who worry that Captain Archer will not succeed in his mission. They feel that after three years in space he might not have sufficient reason to act aggressive enough to get the job done."

"What does this have to do with my joining Starfleet?"

"If Captain Archer were to fail in stopping a full blown attack, Earth would be destroyed. There are certain people at Starfleet think that if there were someone on Earth he cared about he would try harder."

"And those people I'm that person? You think that my presence on Earth will spur the captain to greater heights to succeed. How are you sure that he will even know I'm on Earth."

"You speak with the Captain weekly, and up until last week, the Chief Engineer daily. The Vulcan High Command is not the only organization that monitors incoming and outgoing calls to Enterprise, T'Pol."

T'Pol stiffened. "What are you implying?"

"That you deliberately use the Starfleet switchboard because you do not trust your government not to record your calls."

"Why wouldn't I trust my government?"

"Because you know that like last year, they're anticipating blaming you for the incident at P'Jem and later the incident with the Andorian/Vulcan treaty. Despite assurances to the otherwise, they've already pushed you out of your commission and your childhood home. How long will it be until you go for a walk to the supermarket and you disappear?" Admiral Forrest sighed. "Vulcan is Earth's ally, but even we can't be totally blind-sighted to its faults. We have our spies, just as they have their's.

"If you accept this post at Starfleet, you will gain safety and the autonomy to speak with the people on Enterprise you wish to at anytime. We will gain something, and you will to."

T'Pol studied the stoic man before her and in a startling revelation realized that he reminded her of Soval. "I will consider your words and reply within the next day."

"Good to know. Have a good ride back." His mask of politeness was back and his aides murmured thoughts of the same. T'Pol hurried through the _Selare_ and back to the shuttle she had rented for the flight up. How could he know all her doubts about her government? It was as if he had reached inside her mind and seen the things that she'd kept most hidden. She'd never even told Commander Tucker about her worries. It was part of the reason she'd been avoiding his calls this last week. That night last week he had seen something in her face she had not wanted him to see. More often than not Commander Tucker could see things about her other people did not.

* * *

T'Pol returned the ship and decided to walk home. For a desert climate, the weather was quite temperate, something akin to fall on Earth. On Vulcan it was the coldest it usually became. Indeed, Vulcans who had never felt the cold of an Earth winter were clad in extra heavy robes, seeming cold in this mild weather.

When T'Pol reached her flat, the door was already open. She was the only resident on that floor and she felt a tingle of awareness as she stepped through the doorway. The lights did not come on as they were programmed to do with movement, and as T'Pol felt the crunch of glass she realized why. In human terms, her flat had been trashed. Her chairs had been slashed, as well as her living area accompaniments. Her pictures (that she had bought at a "garage sale" on Earth) were broken, as well as what seemed to be every other glass thing in the apartment. It was obvious that whoever had done it was long gone.

T'Pol conducted a quick search but turned up no clues. She was tempted to call the authorities but knew it would get her no where. Despite their warnings against her leaving, it appeared someone on Vulcan wanted T'Pol gone. As T'Pol entered the code to contact Admiral Forrest, it seems they're getting their way.

* * *

No Trip/Polly interaction here...but I like the reminiscing about each other anyway! 


	4. Extinction

WARNING! This is the companion...or rather...mirror to the episode, _Extinction_...which was, once again, T'Pol/Archer heavy. Instead of ignoring it (which I will be doing with _Carpenter Street_), I'm revising the plot so that it fits my twisted view of the universe. Yes...I AM EVIL!

A/N...for those interested...I have plotted out the rest of the season so well that, if you express interest, I will email you an exclusive hint/spoiler...Not an excerpt from a future chappi...more like a clue to the developing storylines...and, if you know this spoiler, it will INCREASE SUSPENSE AND MYSTERY! You will know what to look for! But for those of you not interested...you will be shocked! SHOCKED, I TELL YOU, SHOCKED! Actually it doesn't matter...in exactly, ten chapters (including this one) it will be revealed...but it's a good idea to know the spoiler...

* * *

Extinction-**REVISED

* * *

Trip smiled at Ensign Doherty as he explained his new "important" news in the new situation room. The captain, Hoshi, and Malcolm all gritted their teeth, however. The man had been rambling for ten minutes, and yes, the captain was right. The man was downright monotonous. If Trip has ever thought T'Pol the same, then this completely changed his view of her.**

"Doherty, get on with it!" The captain rasped, obviously as tired as the rest of the senior crew at being led on for ten minutes and learning nothing.

"Yes, captain! I have found a Xindi ship," Doherty enthused, his red hair matching his face for the moment, whether from embarrassment at being caught rambling or the excitement of the find, Trip didn't know.

"A Xindi ship?" Hoshi asked, leaning forward in attention, as seemed to be the entire room.

Doherty smiled. "Yes. It's crashed on a planet only a light-year from here. It was hard to detect it, but once we got the signal it was cake."

"Signal?" Trip asked.

"Yes, it's emitting a signal, some kind of distress message. It was decaying so I had to work to trace it."

"Good work, Ensign," Captain Archer stated for the young man's benefit. He was obviously looking for some kind of recognition; after all, T'Pol's shoes had to be hard to fill in, or so everyone always took the chance to tell the young man. On that thought, the Captain punched a button on the door panel and waited for the answering beep. "Travis? Set course for these coordinates."

The captain nodded to Doherty who practically yelled them out with glee. Trip covered his laugh with a cough and both him and Malcolm made their goodbyes before they cracked.

"Did you see that bugger? Could he be any farther up the Captain's arse?" Malcolm laughed as they stepped into the turbolift.

"I'm surprised at you, Malcolm. Dissing your fellow Englishman?"

"English? He's Irish! And there's no way he's anything of mine."

Trip winced. "Ouch...what's the matter with you? He make a dig about the size of your torpedoes?" Malcolm shook his head, so Trip thought again...and remembered something from the meeting. "He's getting awful close to Hoshi, ain't he? They've had dinner a lot together...I see them...and I bet you do, too."

Malcolm blushed and ignored the implication. "I don't see anything. Where are you heading?"

Trip grinned and let his friend off the hook...for now. "B deck, I'm gonna catch a nap before my shift."

Malcolm turned in concern to his friend and noticed what Trip was continually ignoring. Trip's color was bad, the bags under his eyes deep. He was constantly nipping off to catch naps. "Have you talked to the doctor?"

"I'm fine, damnit! Why does everyone ask me that? I just need sleep. Even T'Pol nags me about-..."

"T'Pol! You've been talking to T'Pol?" Malcolm asked, turning the awkward tables on Trip.

"Not so often..." Trip trailed off as Malcolm's eyes widened dramatically.

"So that's the mysterious calls you take every night?"

"What are you talking about?" Trip asked, practically bursting from the turbolift as it stopped on B deck. Instead of staying on the lift, though, Malcolm followed Trip off, ignoring the fact that he was due back on the bridge.

"Hoshi says that almost every night, she transfers a call from a Starfleet switchboard to your quarters. She never speaks to the person on the other side, interestingly enough, since that person enters your extension and is transferred automatically. She thought it might be your parents, until that same person started talking to the captain too. It's T'Pol, isn't it?" Malcolm continued haranguing Trip, much like a dog on a bone.

"Tha's ridiculous, Mal. Your English imagination is comin' to life. Imaginin' ghosts everywhere. Maybe you need to see the doc," Trip said as he hurried into his quarters, giving the Security Officer no chance to reply.

_T'Pol talks to the captain as often as me? Guess I'm not so special after all. Just imaginin' things where there are none_. Trip assured himself, concealing the flicker of disappointment far beneath his skin.

* * *

T'Pol studied the large brownstone in front of her and struggled to see why humans found it so pleasing to the eye. It seemed to her as appealing as every other house she'd studied today, and there had been many. Tudors, ranches, condos, and villas, not to mention even more brownstones.

San Francisco was as fair weathered as ever, and T'Pol was taking advantage to find her new home. Though, she was welcome at the Vulcan consulate, it was all but deserted. The Vulcan High Command had removed all Vulcans from Earth, leaving only a ship in orbit. T'Pol supposed it was there for a "quick getaway" in case of another attack. T'Pol had decided with much thought that she was going to rent an apartment among the populace. The Admiral had thought it a great idea and sent one of his aides along to help her choose a suitable place.

"This is a good neighborhood and it's quite close to the coast!" The realtor, blonde and blue-eyed, and everything T'Pol was not, practically shined with enthusiasm. She was gesturing to the house and it's surrounding areas, but soon continued inside. "The house is on the edge of a hill so it looks down on an amazing view. The bedroom window looks right at the ocean! I'd live here if I could!"

"Then why do you not?" T'Pol asked, following at a polite distance. Thomas McCoy, the Admiral's aide, followed her. Despite her uneasiness about having a human companion she did not know, the man had soon eased her tension, reminding her of Phlox with his easy smile and disarming wit.

The realtor faltered, not expecting the question. Most people nodded and smiled and let her continue without asking questions. Not that she minded the Vulcan woman asking questions! She enjoyed answering questions. You see, Serena, which was the realtor's name, was a people person, even if that person happened to be a Vulcan. "Oh! I have a house in the West End I'm restoring. This place is beautiful, but that place is home." Serena continued with the tour, parrying questions fielded by the cute aide who followed, and leaving T'Pol to look around.

T'Pol saw the two of them softly conversing in the kitchen about property value near "Hurricane Alley" and walked through apartment alone. It took up an entire floor and was logically too much space for one person. T'Pol thought back to what the realtor had said. Home. T'Pol would try to make this Earth as comfortable as possible while she was there. It seemed more and more like she would be here a while.

T'Pol studied the view of the ocean from the bedroom window and agreed with the realtor. It was a pleasing view. She could see the ships in the water, and farther out, even larger "cruise" ships. On land, she could see Starfleet, and many, many buildings. As T'Pol stood there, the sun began to set...causing the sky to go bright orange and glint off the water and right into her face. T'Pol put up her hand and studied the sight before her. The light and water and the way they interacted reminded T'Pol of when she'd been younger and had camped on the edge of Lake Hileya. It had been the first time she'd been left alone in the wilderness of Vulcan. The experience had taught T'Pol to depend on herself and that not always would there be someone around to aid her. When the sun had risen in the morning, it had looked like this.

"I'll take it."

Serena and Thomas stopped their quiet flirting and turned to the stoic Vulcan. She had a resolve on her face that brokered no arguments. "I'll have the papers drawn up. We can decide what the price will be when..."

"I'll pay the price on the advertisement," T'Pol stated. Thomas automatically started to object and Serena agreed.

"We inflate those prices, ma'am. I don't want to over-..."

"I will pay the price on the advertisement," T'Pol stated again, crossing her arms for emphasis.

Serena knew this would be a big sale for her but had liked the Vulcan immediately and made a side note to take off a couple credits anyways. "Okay. As I was saying, there's a small pub not far from here that many people in the neighborhood go to. Since this is taken care of, would you two like to join me and celebrate?"

"I will decline, I have things to do at the consulate," T'Pol explained, wanting to return to her quarters at Starfleet so that she could make sure she made the arrangements for her things immediately.

Thomas looked uncertain. "I guess I'll accompany you-..."

"Nonsense. I do not need your guidance, Mr. McCoy. I can find my way," T'Pol said, feeling very old in the face of the Serena and Thomas's obvious infatuation for one another. Serena obviously wanted Thomas to go with her.

"I know that, but..."

"No objections," T'Pol stated. "I'll be fine. I pity the person who thinks to attack me. I do have the second highest qualification in the lethal fighting style of Kolnacktor."

"Yes, Comman-..."

T'Pol shook her head. "Not yet, Mr. McCoy."

Thomas grinned and blushed as T'Pol turned and retraced her steps out of the building. Thinking her out of earshot, Serena let out a sigh. "What an odd Vulcan."

Thomas stiffened. "Yes, she can be."

Serena immediately noticed her faux-pas. "No! I mean that a good way. I like her. She's...interesting."

Thomas relaxed and smiled. "Don't tell anyone, but me too. Shall we go to...O'Reilly's, I believe you called it?"

"Yes, please," Serena gushed, laying her hand in the crook of Thomas's arm. She not only liked the Vulcan, but the human with her, as well. They left the building headed East, not noticing the Vulcan heading West, into the sun, and making an impressive figure with her head held high and her slightly feline walk. Unbeknownst to the trio, someone did notice...and kept watch of her figure until it was necessary for him to walk behind her to keep her in sight.

She reached Starfleet unaccosted, but that was the spy's mission. To watch and observe and when the time came, to take her out.

* * *

Trip steadied himself against the captain's chair and struggled to comprehend. After three hours of no contact from the surface, where the away team consisting of Captain Archer, Hoshi, Malcolm, and Phlox (who had insisted on going in case one of the Xindi had been injured in the crash, which the Captain had of course argued with but inevitably lost) had lost contact after disclosing that the site of the crash was very old and abandoned, Phlox had finally made contact with the Enterprise again...but with bad news.

"They're changing as a fast pace. Without the proper medical equipment I have no chance of finding a way to stop this, Commander."

"What are you suggestin', Doc?"

"I'll send up the information in my scanner. Use the equipment in Sickbay to help you find out what is going on! Hold on...they're...moving..." Phlox sounded very irate, and suddenly it sounded as if he was moving very quickly. "I must keep them in sight but stay out of sight. This is actually quite fascinating. They keep repeating a word...Urkat? No, Urquat."

"Why can' you just come up and do it?" Trip asked, looking around him on the bridge for a familiar face to back him up, but while they were familiar, no one but Travis was a close friend and he was only looking at the Commander blankly.

"I fear I'm infected too. And without the equipment to find a cure of some sort I can't safely decontaminate myself. I could spread this to the entire ship."

"Even if you send up the info, we're going to need like a sample or somethin' right?" Trip asked, searching his brain for clues. He had no idea how to deal with a medical emergency! He was an engineer for Christ's sake!

"Yes, you're right," Phlox said, obviously frazzled out of his mind. Trip could hear some kind of language in the background.

"What's goin' on?"

"They've spotted me and are circling me..."

"Phlox!"

"Bring a ship...wear EV suits and you should be safe...take one of them back with you...he'll be your example and guinea pig, so to speak..." Phlox spoke softly, not wanting to startle his comrades, who were obviously on edge.

"Alright. Hold tight! Me and Trav will be down in a few minutes," Trip nodded to the Ensign at the comm. and she cut the transmission. Then, he gestured to Travis. "Let's go."

* * *

T'Pol stood and stretched, reaching her arms up to the ceiling and bending low. One advantage of being Vulcan was being double-jointed...everywhere. It made it quite easy to crack the bones that were stiff from sitting for so long. It was done, however. Her first proposal to Starfleet.

She knew that she had only just decided to buy an apartment hours before, and that Admiral Forrest, her superior, had told her to wait before starting work on her new project, but she hadn't felt the need to sleep. Instead, she'd studied the materials sent over about a new radioactive isotope and had drawn up a proposal of precautions to send to Admiral Forrest.

T'Pol studied the clock and saw that she had several hours before her meeting with the Admiral. T'Pol decided to call and see if Commander Tucker was awake. Usually on Wednesdays he was scheduled for the late shift, so he should be leaving Engineering about now. She went through appropriate channels and waited while his terminal tried to alert him. This went on for quite a while. Obviously he was not in his quarters. At one in the morning. He wasn't on duty. As Chief Engineer he was not required to work the "graveyard shift" as he put it, and he took full advantage of that.

T'Pol backtracked and waited for Ensign Sato to open a channel. Even that took some time and when the channel opened it was not Ensign Sato that answered, but a frightened looking woman with a shock of red hair. "Starship Enterprise. How may I help you?"

"I would like to speak with Commander Tucker."

"Oh, okay. He's in sickbay, let me route you," the girl looked pleased to be able to stop talking to her, T'Pol noted, then remembered what the slip of a girl had said. Commander Tucker was in sickbay? Had he been hurt? Had there been an attack?

When Commander Tucker finally opened her channel she studied him sharply. "Are you injured?"

The commander looked startled...and tired. "No. Why?"

"I tried you in your quarters and you didn't answer and the Ensign at the comm. said you were in Sickbay. It's logical to assume you'd be injured," T'Pol explained.

"No...but I have a problem you can help with!" Trip said with sudden insight. "There's some sort of virus attackin' the cap'n and Hoshi and-..." BAM! In the background, T'Pol could see Malcolm throw himself against the decon door with as much force as he could muster. Fortunately for Trip's head ache, it knocked him out. "...Malcolm. I can' figure out how to use this equipment to find a cure and you...are a scientist! Don' they make you take medical courses or biology or somethin' like that?"

"No."

Trip looked at her, crestfallen, until she spoke again. "But I believe I can help you anyways. Have you determined what type of virus it is?"

"Nope," Trip said sheepishly but smiling nonetheless. T'Pol settled herself into her seat better. Drawing her tea to her she began to lay out just what he's going to do.

"Do you have a sample?" Trip nodded. "Use the scanner to make an organic composition profile. Once you've done that..."

* * *

**(FOUR HOURS LATER)

* * *

**

"This ain't workin'."

"Do not lose hope, Commander. I believe you've told me that?" T'Pol said, tempted to raise her voice, but restraining for the Commander's sake. He obviously had a head ache and refused to take medication for it.

Trip sighed and looked at the monitor. "You're tired. Get some sleep. I'll figure it out."

"No. Have you run the beta sequence?"

Trip hated this stubborn Vulcan. "Yeah...nothin'." Trip brushed his hand down the monitor, showing T'Pol his concern. "Go to sleep."

"No...what about the theta?"

"Quit being stubborn."

"And you're not?" T'Pol countered.

Trip smiled. "It's in my DNA, baby. I can' change that."

T'Pol stilled. "What?"

Trip's smile fell. "I didn' mean anythin' by it, T'Pol...I..."

"No...that's it...It's not changing them just physically. You said the scanner noted atomic changes. It's changing them at a genetic level. Phlox isn't changing at the same rate because his DNA is different."

"Phlox isn't changing at all," Trip noted.

"So maybe there's something in his DNA that isn't in human."

Trip thought. "We'd need a sample."

T'Pol looked at him like he was an idiot. "You're in his work area, where he works every day...and you can't find a sample?"

"Shut up."

T'Pol watched as Trip started to look for a hair or something like that of Phlox's. Behind her, her door chimed. "Hold on, I'll return in a minute."

T'Pol walked to the door and opened it to reveal an impeccably dressed Admiral Forrest. "Admiral?"

The admiral raised an eyebrow at T'Pol's attire...or rather, lack there of. She was still in her bright purple pj's. "We were to have breakfast," he said as a way of greeting.

"Yes. I forgot. I am currently in conference with Commander Tucker. Is it approved by you if I decline breakfast?"

"Fine with me. Mind if I say hello to the Commander?" The Admiral asked, entering her quarters before her reply. "Hello, Commander."

Trip looked into the monitor confused. "Admiral? Hey. What are you...doing...in T'Pol's quarters?"

"We were going to have breakfast but she wishes to conference with you instead. Something I should know, Commander?"

"I think I'll let the cap'n tell you. We're pretty much done here if T'Pol's wants to go to breakfast."

"No, it's quite alright for her to stay. Her first day of work is today and I'm sure she wants to pretty herself up anyways." The admiral turned to T'Pol. "I'll speak with you later to check how it went."

T'Pol nodded and watched the admiral leave. She knew Trip was upset about something and sought to find out about what. "Why are you glaring at me Commander?"

"Where are you, T'Pol?"

"Starfleet."

"On Earth?"

"Yes."

He glared.

She stared back.

"Why are you glaring at me Commander?" She asked again.

"You're on Earth."

"And?"

Trip exploded. "It's not safe there, T'Pol! Why do you think I told the cap'n to make you leave! It's not safe here or there! You just walk right into trouble!"

T'Pol steadied herself. "The captain did not make me leave. I chose. I can see now that I chose right." T'Pol closed the channel and turned to her wardrobe. She dressed very carefully, with only her precise movements revealing her turmoil. Gently lifting the PADDs on her desk to her chest, she left the room and went towards her new job, and the start of her new life.

* * *

Trip figured out the cure without her help, not that he needed it. Damn woman.

If that wasn't enough to add to his troubles, he had to deal with an arrogant alien named Tret who wanted to kill everyone on the planet and was going to destroy Enterprise if Trip didn't hand over Malcolm. Trip refused, leading to a stare down between the two ships. Using what little cure he had already made, Trip injected Malcolm as evidence that the cure worked. A little diplomacy and a trade of cure for the captain, Hoshi, and Phlox's lives, though Phlox was never in danger, the aliens had been intrigued by his immunity.

As Trip stared at the bridge, once again full of familiar faces, he missed one face in particular...the one he had pissed off royally hours before. Damn woman.

* * *

Yeah...new chapter soon! I promise...You love me...you know you do...

Goshabyn: I'm glad you approve...thank you for reading...

STC: Good point...but if it were a feeling there was no Vulcan word to describe I do think she would try to describe it in the best way she can, even if it is in a non-Vulcan way...but good criticism anyways...I'm trying to stay canon but it's HARD! You watch me...catch me if I'm not...and you'll be my favorite!

Luna: LOL...I still love your name...


	5. Rajiin

Wow...on to Rajiin already...yeah...this IS GOING TO BE FUN!

**Rajiin-REVISED!

* * *

**

"She's attractive."

Trip turned at Malcolm's voice and raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Rajiin!" Malcolm stressed as he leaned against the wall. "I can see why the captain fancies her."

Trip shrugged, not overly concerned with their guest. Other than the tour the captain had given her of Engineering, he hadn't seen her around. Apparently she was too preoccupied with the captain.

"Don't you care? There's beautiful alien aboard, Trip." Trip shrugged as Malcolm grew exasperated. "Don't you even want to hit on her?"

Trip turned, frustrated that the subject had not been dropped and that Mal wouldn't let him get back to work. "Why would I wanna hit on her?"

Malcolm smiled. "It's what you do. A hot alien comes on board, you hit on them and get laid or pregnant or something like that. It's your thing."

Trip felt anger wash over him, tainted by a touch of embarrassment. "Not always."

Malcolm nodded. "Yes, always. It is a matter of public debate as to why you didn't do the same with T'Pol. After all, she's definitely ho-..."

"Shut up, Malcolm!"

Malcolm put his hands up in surrender. "Yessir!"

Trip rubbed his stiff neck and looked down. "I'm sorry I yelled."

Malcolm grinned, well aware that he had been deliberately baiting the Commander. By now, it was well circulated that Trip was receiving calls from a certain Vulcan, and if Hoshi was to be believed (which she was) then putting quite a few calls in to said Vulcan as well. Trip and T'Pol were notorious for their "arguments" and many wondered with the new evidence if there'd been more going on than either had let on. Trip reaction to Malcolm's description of T'Pol told Malcolm all he needed to know. Not that he'd tell anyone else...Malcolm Reed was no gossip...he'd only tell Hoshi...she could be trusted...

"How's the trellium thing going?"

Trip sighed. Yes, let's discuss the source of my head ache. "Badly. I can' get the damn stuff to stabilize...it keeps explodin'! I'm beginnin' to think the damn formula is a dud." Trip wished that they'd never got the damn formula from the chemist on that alien bazaar. Now the captain was determined to insulate the ship in trellium-D and Trip just didn't have the capabilities to do that. How he was going to explain that to the Captain was going to be extremely difficult.

"What's the matter with the formula?"

"Nothin' much, 'cept that it's impossible to get the two requirements for temp and mass to the level they need to be. At the temp needed to synthesize trellium, the mass multiplies, but we need it to stay at the same place. I can' figure out a way to..."

Malcolm laughed. "Trip...way over my head."

"Sorry, look...I need the temp..."

"Trip...don't even try to explain...you engineers talk a language I don't speak," Malcolm said seriously, then taking a glance at his watch noticed that he was late for dinner with Hoshi. "Look, maybe you can try to explain it to me later?"

Trip nodded and watched as Malcolm bounded out of engineering and into the hall. He let himself smile to himself before going back to work with the calculations. He'd only been at it a couple minutes when someone tapped him on his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He said, not turning around, figuring it to be someone on his team with a small problem.

"Commander?"

Trip whirled around and found Corporal Amanda Cole a foot away, "Corporal? What are you doin' in engineerin'?"

"Nothing...I just wanted to see if you're going to the movie tonight?" Corporal Cole said with an inviting smile. Since the MACOs had joined the crew, she had been after Trip to participate in some "extraordinary" activities after hours. So far, Trip's answer had been no every time, but that didn't deter her.

"Nah...got too much work to do."

Disappointment showed clearly on her face. "Oh...well, if you need a...companion for next week, I'm available."

_Yeah, I got that._

"Okay, thanks...bye..." Trip turned and walked into his office, though the work that needed done was still out in main engineering. Waiting until he was sure she was gone, Trip collected a couple PADDs and headed to his quarters. What was Corporal Cole doing asking him out? Wasn't that against some kind of regulation? Couldn't he be thrown in the brig? Did the woman have no consideration for his career?

_Strange that you mention that!_ His subconscious gloated_. Just last night you were having a very naughty dream about a certain Vulcan member of Starfleet...where was your career then?_

"Not on my mind..." Trip murmured aloud.

_No, it was in your-..._

"Shut up!" Trip yelled out loud, startling a security ensign into dropping his phaser as he patrolled. "Sorry," Trip grinned sheepishly as he hurried into his quarters and threw himself in bed. He was exhausted. Between running in and out of the small room he'd chosen to try to make the "explosive" trellium in and the meetings with Malcolm and Corporal Cole he was overwhelmed and in need of sleep.

Even as his eyes began to close, however, an alert at his door was jerking him awake. "What?" he asked groggily.

"Commander? Am I interrupting something?" A female voice called out. For a second Trip thought it was T'Pol, but then remembered that she was gone. Then he thought maybe it was Corporal Cole, coming to see if he'd changed his mind about the movie. Couldn't be her, though, her voice was deeper than this one. Finally Trip got up and opened the door.

A beautiful, blonde alien stood on the other side. She smiled and slithered into his quarters. Trip instantly felt ill at ease. There was something about the woman that gave him the creeps. "Rajiin, right?"

"Yes...your quarters are smaller than the captains..." Rajiin mused as she seated herself on his rumpled bed.

Trip raised his eyebrows at Rajiin's mention of quarters. _When did the cap'n's quarters get on the official tour route?_ Trip grinned at the question and Rajiin mistakenly thought it was for her.

"I wish you to...tell me more of Enterprise."

"I'm sure the cap'n told you everything there's to know, darlin'."

"Yes, he told me much, but I want you..." Rajiin let that hang in the air. "...to tell me more."

Trip shifted uncomfortably and watched as Rajiin rose and began to walk towards him with a particular gleam in her eyes that he recognized from the time Phlox's predatory wife had been on board. Rajiin was hitting on him! Not that Trip wasn't flattered, but Rajiin was obviously, ahem, "involved" with the captain.

As she cornered him against the wall and ran her hand down his cheek, Trip contemplated letting her do what she clearly wanted. There was no one on board, excusing Corporal Cole, who had shown interest in him like that for a long time. It wouldn't hurt anybody...and Rajiin was very attractive...her blonde curls looked so soft...as did her curves as she leaned against him...all he ever wanted to do was be with Rajiin...forever...

"BLEEP!"

The comm. on Trip's desk blared, breaking whatever hold Rajiin had placed on Trip. Not that he noticed. In a second he was out of her grip and answering the call. When T'Pol's face came on screen, he wasn't sure whether to thank god, or cry.

"Trip? Are you alright? You're breathing heavily." She looked cool and calm...until she noticed the barely clad woman behind him. Then she became positively glacial. "Have I interrupted something?"

Trip jolted as he realized that Rajiin was still there. "No...she was just leaving." Trip gave Rajiin a meaningful glance but she didn't leave. She leaned against the wall and studied his face and that of the strange woman in the screen.

T'Pol cocked her head and for once, Trip had no idea what was going on in her head. "Nevertheless, I'll call when it's more convenient for you." Her voice was cool, so much so that Trip was surprised he wasn't shivering. Before he could say anything she had disconnected though, and left him with a curious Rajiin to deal with.

"Who was that?"

"That was Sub-...T'Pol. She used to be this ship's science officer," Trip sat down in his seat and sighed. T'Pol was pissed at him. What was with the females in his life today? Were they all trying to drive him crazy?

"You care for her."

Trip scoffed. "Nah. She's just someone I used to work with."

"No. You care for her and she cares for you."

Trip looked over his shoulder at Rajiin and was suddenly uncomfortable. Seconds ago they'd been about to jump each other, and now they were calmly discussing his love life...not that he had one. "Why do you say that?"

"She was upset at seeing me here. Only a woman who cared about you would have cared."

Trip smiled. "She likes me."

Rajiin pushed off the wall and approached Trip, who stared at the screen in thought and didn't notice. "Yes...back to my point though."

Trip turned to ask what she was talking about, but suddenly he felt light headed. Rajiin was running her hands down his head, his chest, his legs, and back up. As she did so, some kind of light was coming from her hands. Trip felt...happy. Like there was nothing better in the world. Then she touched her hands to his head, and he fell asleep.

Rajiin smiled. When he woke up, he would remember nothing of what he had done. He would only remember fighting with T'Pol and falling asleep at his desk. Laying Trip's head on the desk, Rajiin hurried to return to the captain's side. They must not be suspicious of her. She had a mission to accomplish.

* * *

T'Pol was not upset. She was completely in control of her mind and body, but after disconnecting with Commander Tucker, T'Pol was not in a good mood. Having the most discomforting presence in her work life walk into her office seconds later did not help.

Lieutenant Michaels smiled at Commander T'Pol, but it turned out to be more of a gritting of his teeth. He had made his opinion of T'Pol very clear from the beginning of this project...and it wasn't favorable. "Here are the reports you asked for."

T'Pol gestured for him to sit down while she perused the reports. He stood at the door. T'Pol ignored him and started to skim the reports.

"Why didn't you make the adjustments I suggested?"

"I didn't think they'd work," he said sardonically.

"I am your superior, Lieutenant," T'Pol began, but was interrupted.

"Listen, Vulcan. I do not take orders from Starfleet's newest side show attraction. You're here for entertainment value...no one expects you to work. Why don't you go put a bikini on and parade for the cameras so I can get to work?" Michaels sneered at T'Pol.

T'Pol felt uncomfortable with the situation, but wasn't going to back down. She stood and stared down the man in front of her. "I am here to work. Starfleet treats me no better or worse than you-..."

"What's the matter, Commander?" Michaels laughed. "I hurt your feelings? Oh, wait! You don't have any! Come on...you wanna hit me? I thought the Vulcans were pacifists?" He taunted T'Pol until she was sorely tempted to do as he said.

T'Pol rounded her desk and approached the bigot in front of her. "Bear in mind, Lieutenant, that I am no longer with the Vulcan High Command. There is no need for me to be a pacifist now. I am also ten times stronger than you." T'Pol stepped close, and let her anger fill her face. She was taller than the Lieutenant Commander by three inches, so she stood an imposing figure over him. "It might not be such a good idea to provoke me."

Michaels sneered but T'Pol could smell his fear. "What are you going to do, Vulcan?"

T'Pol admits it...she lost control for a minute...and punched her fist through the wall... "Do not tempt me, Lieutenant. Make the adjustments I told you to and take the day off. When you return tomorrow it better be with a better attitude, or I will be reporting you. Have I made myself clear?"

Michaels nodded, and easing along the wall, opened the door and left. T'Pol stood shaking for several minutes before calming down. This had not been the first incident of trouble and would not be the last. She should have reported him and been done with it, but a girl does get tired of playing the tattle tell. This incident probably affirmed all his fears about aliens, and T'Pol felt shame at losing control for a few precious minutes.

She had no clue as to why she had lost control though. It was unsettling to not be in control, and she didn't see how humans could do it constantly. T'Pol looked at her hand and saw that it was bleeding lightly. Using her good hand, she pressed the button for her assistant and waited until the small human girl had hurried in.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I have injured myself. Would you being the dermal regenerator?"

The assistant hurried off and T'Pol settled herself back into her seat. Why had she reacted the way she had? She had been putting up with Michaels' comments all week and not been affected like she had today, but just seconds ago she had felt like she wanted to rip out his throat and feed him to a wild animal.

As her assistant, Nancy, started to heal her hand, T'Pol had a sudden insight. Using one hand, she drew up her medical records and entered a quick search.

"Well..." T'Pol said quietly. "That is interesting." It appeared that T'Pol had entered the year of her Pon Farr...

Okay, so I revised and changed a lot...I hope everyone goes back and reads it again...mainly the revisions came in the T'Pol segments and the first chapters so...yeah...

I changed it from three months to a year for T'Pol's Pon Farr...I felt I needed more time...

* * *

I hope we all like the new way of it...And yes...THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE CANON! Tell me if I need to tweak things some more... 


	6. Impulse

ALRIGHT! New chapter after so long a wait...I'm sorry. I had midterms and papers due and they all got me all caught up in the game. But I'm back, so enjoy.

A/N- Before I got all caught up in the game**, I MAJORLY REVISED THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS! ANYONE WHO HAS READ FOR A WHILE I ADVISE YOU READ AGAIN! MAJOR REVISIONS!**

OK, so onto the story. _Impulse.

* * *

T'Pol sat in a private room in Starfleet Medical and felt cold. It wasn't in relation to her surroundings, but had everything to do with why she was here. Okay, it was in part to her surroundings. T'Pol, though a scientist, had never appreciated the clinical sterility of Starfleet's examination rooms. On Vulcan, the room would have been done in reds and browns in order to help the patient achieve a sense of relaxations. No one, not even Vulcans, liked visiting the doctors no matter how advanced the society was._

Of course, her coldness might also have to do with the fact that T'Pol was in a state of deep meditation. So deep, in fact, that she did not hear the Starfleet doctor enter the room.

"Commander T'Pol?"

T'Pol opened her eyes and studied the small man before her. He was of African descent but had blue eyes, a fact that T'Pol found interesting. In her interaction with other humans of his descent she had never encountered such an anomaly. "Have you received the results, Doctor?"

The old man smiled. "Yes. You were right. The head aches and fatigue are being caused by raised levels of certain neurotoxins in your brain. Might I ask how you knew that before I ran the tests?"

T'Pol inclined her head and answered. "I made an educated guess."

"Ah, well. It was a very good one. Now, would you like me to prescribe something for you? I'm not familiar with Vulcan physiology but I'm sure I can look something up."

"No. I can attend to this matter myself." T'Pol rose from her seat and started to leave. The doctor's eyes stayed with her, however, so that she felt a compulsion. "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Might I ask you a question?"

"Your eyes? I've never seen a human of your coloring with eyes of that color."

"Ah. You're not the first to ask. It's genetics. My mother had blue eyes as did her father. Just a really persistent trait among my family. The oddest little ones tend to stick in the gene pool for a long time. My brother has blonde hair. The last person in my family with blonde hair was my great-aunt Sheila. These little things just keep popping up."

"Thank you," T'Pol nodded while thoughts swirled in her mind. The meditation of the last week had done nothing to ease her mind. The past always catches up...much like genetics.

* * *

"Why is it the hot chicks are always bad?"

"I don't know. Something about the way they act, that mystery about them just draws men in like flies. They can't help it but gobble them up. Guys are so delectable that way," Hoshi explained to Malcolm's question. They were in the mess hall, once again transformed into a movie theatre. Today they were watching _Die Another Day_, a James Bond movie. Trip had been on a spy movie trip for the past couple of weeks and James Bond had been very popular with the crew. "Besides, you only think she's hot 'cause she's British."

Though they kept their voices low, a couple people in front of them shushed. Obligingly, they lowered their voices. "It's not because she's British, it's just an observation. Hot chicks are always bad."

Hoshi smiled. "So...am I bad then?"

Malcolm gave his impression of a deer in headlights and struggled to come up with an answer. "I...you...yes." Then, blushing furiously, he turned his attention to the screen and ignored her for the rest of the movie.

Hoshi giggled a bit and turned to the man beside her. "Trip? Popcorn?"

Trip shook his head to the offer and tried to concentrate on the movie. Repairs on the ship were going well, the crew's morale was recovering from the attack from the Insectoids and Rajiin's betrayal, and the captain had even deigned to come to movie night. Things were going well.

He couldn't keep his mind off of T'Pol, however. They hadn't spoken since their "fight" and Trip couldn't even remember what that had been about. He hadn't tried to contact her though. He wouldn't be the one to break the silence this time. She would have to. He was tired of having to be the one to compromise and the one to give in. Let her do it for once.

Trip broke from his thoughts to find that the movie had finished. Rising he shot off a grin at Hoshi and started to leave.

"Hey, Trip?" The captain said by way of greeting as he joined his chief engineer in the turbolift. "I was wondering what you were doing for dinner tomorrow."

"Oh? I figured I'd catch some dinner in the mess hall and then hit the gym," Trip said, not certain where the captain was going with this.

"Instead of that, how about you join my in the Captain's dining room. Maybe after, you'll want to watch the latest polo match with me?"

_What was this? An olive branch? From the stubborn "I'm never wrong" captain? _Trip mused to himself even while he nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good."

They stood there in awkward silence until the turbolift doors slid open. "So, yeah. My floor. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," the captain nodded before pressing his level on the turbolift pad and shutting the doors. Trip continued to his quarters with a smile on his face. Maybe his life wasn't as hopeless as he had thought. It appeared like he was finally going to be getting his best friend back.

Even as Trip was thinking of how good his life was getting lately (excusing the mission) the tactical alert started blaring and startled him from those thoughts. Trip turned without thinking and headed back to the turbolift and up to the bridge. When he stepped onto the command deck it was relatively calm. He had expected another attack, widespread panic, and all he got was this?

"What's goin' on?"

The captain stood in front of his chair and didn't bother to look at who asked the question before answering. "Scanners have picked up a Vulcan vessel."

Trip faltered in his swagger to his station by the captain's words, but then continued without answering. _A Vulcan vessel! Could that mean...Was T'Pol on board? Had she come to join them? Was there some emergency on Earth that required the Vulcans to come here? _Trip let his racing thoughts spin as he situated himself at the engineering station and assured himself that his engines were in the best shape they could be.

"Captain?" Ensign Doherty looked up from where he'd been looking at the results of scans through the eyepiece at his station. "There interference but I don't think there are any life signs on board. There's heavy damage to the ship and almost no life support. It appears to have been in the field for a while."

Trip's chest eased at the idea of the ship being here for a while. At first, when Doherty had said that there were no life signs, he'd panicked. If T'Pol had been on board and dead...well, it might have affected him a bit more than he'd have expected.

"What can you tell me about the asteroid field?"

"It's composed of iron, copper, several other common metals, several I can't identify, and trillium-D."

"Trellium-D? In there?" Trip asked, incredulous. The chemist they'd met at the port had led them to believe that trillium didn't occur in nature often, in fact, it was near impossible to find. "Captain, if I could get some of that trellium we could insulate the ship and be free of the anomalies."

"How would you get it done?"

"I...I guess we could use a shuttle pod. Maybe the transporter."

"Try the transporter first. I'm gonna take one of the shuttle pods and a team to the _Seleya_. I want the other free in case something goes wrong."

"You're expecting trouble, Captain?" Reed asked as he rose to join the captain on the turbolift.

"In this place, I expect anything."

Trip grinned at Travis over his console. "Hey, Trav? Wanna help me use the transporter?"

"Do I!" Travis signaled for his replacement to take his seat and started for the turbolift. Suddenly a thought occurred to the pilot. "How'd the captain know what ship it was?"

"What do you mean?"

"The captain. He called the Vulcan ship the Seleya. How'd he know what ship it was? Doherty didn't tell him."

"Oh...I don' know. Captains keep all these little secrets Trav. Can' trust the lot of them."

They shared a laugh over that and soon were at the transporter.

"Hey, Trav? Did I mention that this stuff is highly explosive?"

"What!"

* * *

T'Pol sat in a cushion in her living room, meditating in the soft light that shone through the light curtains on her bay windows. Other than that, the only light came from her meditation candle in front of her.

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

Genetics. As the captain said, you never know what will pop out. It appeared that T'Pol was continually surprised by that. Here she was, a little over sixty years old and thoughts of her father still made her feel like a child.

Of course, when compared to her father she was a child. Always would be. S'Lat had died before he could see his daughter grow into adulthood. Her mother had always told T'Pol that she took after S'Lat.

S'Lat had been a great scientist on Vulcan. T'Pol had chosen his field as her own. S'Lat had chosen unorthodox ideals in life. Some on Vulcan said T'Pol did the same. S'Lat had been without a betrothal and had to take a mate in impulse when he'd entered his Pon Farr. It appeared T'Pol would have to do the same.

There was the option of contacting Koss and ascertaining if he would like to resurrect their betrothal, but their last meet on Vulcan, weeks ago, had not gone well.

* * *

**(Flashback)**

* * *

"You are well." Though intended as a question, Koss's tone made it an accusation.

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes. Are you settling back into society without difficulty?"

T'Pol thought of her new apartment, her new job, and all the tensions swirling around her. "There are always some difficulties when is reintegrated into society after a long absence."

"That absence was your choice."

"Yes. I do not regret making it."

Koss got right down to the point. "Our betrothal. Do you regret severing it?"

"I am not certain how I view our betrothal. I will meditate on it."

Koss glared at her over her mother's table. "Do that."

A week later, T'Pol had been gone. On her way to Earth for her new appointment.

* * *

**(End Flashback)**

* * *

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

She'd lied. Contrary to popular belief, Vulcans are quite capable of lying. She had when she'd told Koss that she wasn't certain how she viewed their betrothal. She knew quite clearly how she felt about their betrothal. She disdained it. Koss was a small-minded Vulcan, with no allusions to greatness. He had no ambition, no drive. He was content with designing standard buildings to be built for standard purposes. T'Pol had greater ambitions than that. She wanted to be remembered for something. Another trait she received from her father.

* * *

**(Flashback)**

* * *

"T'Pol. You should be asleep. Your body requires it."

"What are you doing, father?" T'Pol asked as she studied the tall imposing shadow that was her father. He was up late working in his lab again. T'Pol had snuck in; intent on finding out what the secret project was that her father was working on this week. Almost every week, her father would receive an encrypted message from the High Command and would hole up in his lab.

"I am working. What else would I be doing at this time of night?"

"Sleeping?"

"No time for that, daughter. The High Command would like my results soon."

T'Pol felt courageous enough to come out of the shadows and slide over to where her father was standing. "Will you tell me what you are working on?"

S'Lat turned to his daughter, ready to send her back to her room to sleep but could easily see that she was wide awake and if he sent her away she would merely get into trouble somewhere else. He patted the stool beside him and watched as she climbed up. Even at the age of nine, T'Pol had the long-limbed body and graceful movements that would later in life make her infamous on the Starship Enterprise.

"I have been asked to examine some medical findings."

T'Pol looked at the screen on the desk and studied the amorphous shapes on it. "Of what?"

S'Lat figured there was no harm in talking to her daughter about this small project, surely one that would never affect her. "There is a new medical illness growing within a certain type of person on Vulcan. The High Command wants to know if it is contagious to people outside of that group."

T'Pol turned their wide-eyed gaze to her father. "And then they'll heal the sick people."

S'Lat sighed. "No. The High Command sees this illness as just punishment. They do not intend to help them."

"Why not?"

"Those people are heretics."

"They are our people, though."

"T'Pol. You are never to speak of melders like that. They are not us. They are outside of our people. That is why the High Command will not help them. To do so would be to condone what they are doing." S'Lat did not raise his voice, but the scolding was clear.

T'Pol turned back to the monitor. "So no one is going to help those people?"

"No. Maybe one day, someone will take mercy and try, but I doubt that day will come anytime soon."

T'Pol yawned and set her head on her father's shoulder. At this young age, she doesn't have any where near the control on herself that adult Vulcans do, and will not even try for it until at least two decades later. Vulcan children were instructed in basic meditation techniques until their twentieth year, and then they underwent rigorous training to control their emotions. That thought reminded S'Lat of T'Pol's activities tomorrow.

"You must go rest now, daughter. You and your mother are trekking to Mount Seleya tomorrow. You are to begin your lessons in Kol'Ta'nor fighting style tomorrow."

"I don't want to fight, father," T'Pol explained, fighting off another yawn. "I want to be a scientist like you."

S'Lat picked up his daughter where she slumped against the desk and started to carry her to her room. He hoped his bondmate did not see him doing so. T'Mir was quite resolute about him not coddling T'Pol. His bondmate felt that he spoiled his only daughter, most likely stemming from the fact that they would not have another.

"Maybe one day you'll be a scientist like me, T'Pol," S'Lat whispered against his baby girl's forehead as he lay her down. _But I hope you won't owe your soul to the High Command as I do.

* * *

_

**(End Flashback)**

* * *

T'Pol had cared deeply for her father. He had been the biggest influence in her life. She cared for her mother as well, but her father had been everything to her child's heart. When mere weeks later, her father had died in an accident returning from a meeting with the High Command T'Pol had mourned heavily. She had cried. It was the first and only time T'Pol could recall crying. Her mother had sedated T'Pol after that and demanded that the priestesses of Mount Seleya teach her daughter how to control herself. Twenty years early by most Vulcan standards, T'Pol had been taught to subjugate her emotions. Was it any wonder that she had been able to handle working with humans? She had more experience than other Vulcans her age with dealing with emotions.

_Breathe in._

Even now, with her frenzied emotions stirred up by the flares of Pon Farr batting at her shields, T'Pol was in complete control. Even if she could already feel the burn starting in her pelvic area, already know that sooner rather than later, she would have to mate, she could control it. She was Vulcan.

_Breathe out._

There was no other alternative but control.

"What do you mean you need the ship? We're jus' about to go get some trellium," Trip said exasperated as Major Hayes started to load his men into the second and only other unoccupied shuttle on the ship.

"The captain called and said they're having trouble, Commander. I think the away team's lives are worth more than some rock," Major Hayes replied as he lowered himself down the ladder and into the ship. Trip would have protested more but already the bay was emptying as the ship was readied for take off.

Trip hurried out of the bay and into a side room and watched as his only way to get trellium left the ship. After many failed attempts with the transporter, he and Travis had decided to just go out and mine some trellium but now that was bust. Travis was piloting the shuttle and the MACOs had needed it to rescue the captain.

_Why is it whenever the captain goes off ship there's a crisis? That man has bad luck. _Trip thought to himself as he let himself into the hall on B deck. He was close to his quarters so he decided to head there for a quick shower before grabbing some shut-eye. He'd forgotten that he hadn't slept after the movie and had thrown himself right into the trellium thing with Travis.

As Trip lowered himself, fully-clothed, to his bed...he thought of T'Pol. He wondered what she was doing right at this moment. Nothing could be as exciting as his life at the moment. Nothing.

* * *

Okay...new chapter...I hope the seven of you that have this story on alert like it. I try so hard. 


	7. Exile

**Exile**

"You've never seen it? I was led to believe that it was one of the best films of the twentieth century on Earth."

Trip laughed. "That may be true, but I'm not into chick flicks."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Chick flick?"

"It's okay for you to like _The English Patient_...you're a chick."

T'Pol set down the PADD she'd been looking at and stared at Trip through the monitor. "Excuse me?"

Trip sighed. "Chick. Woman. Female."

"I believe the correct definition of chick...is a baby bird."

"It's slang, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded. "The other definition is a slang term for an attractive woman." T'Pol studied Trip's face as his reaction went from blushing to embarrassment to calculation.

"So?"

T'Pol permitted herself to feel amusement and replied, "You find me attractive."

Trip leaned back with a grin. "You're aesthetically pleasin'."

"I believe that I enjoyed the movie, despite it being a 'chick flick'," T'Pol stated, ignoring the flash of tension between them. More and more, she was having to do so.

Trip laughed. "Yeah, I bet you did. How's Earth, T'Pol?"

"Still turning."

"And you? How you doin'?"

"The project is going well. Starfleet is assured that we will have terraforming capabilities at Pegasus Colony within the year. They are pleased."

"That's good. But what about you?"

"I am settling. Mr. McCoy and Ms. Sweed invite me to dinner every night, though I've yet to accept."

"Why not?"

"They are in what is referred to as 'the dating stage', and I am sure that they do not really want company."

"How long they been datin'?"

"Since they met, two weeks ago. Mr. McCoy shares your concern for my well-being."

Trip grinned. "How so?"

"Like you, every time he sees me he feels the need to ask how I am."

"It's common courtesy."

"Most other humans I work with do not."

Trip didn't smile. "Most people are assholes."

T'Pol glanced sharply at Trip. "Commander. Language."

"Sorry. I don' like people givin' you a rough time."

"I've always had a rough time with humans," T'Pol replied with a knowing look.

Trip grinned. "I wasn't givin' you a hard time. I was playin' with you."

"It appeared to be the same thing to me."

"I only did it 'cause you wouldn't let it get to you. It irked me. I wanted to get under your skin."

"Indeed. How are affairs on Enterprise?"

Trip cocked his head. "Doesn't the cap'n tell you everything?"

T'Pol finally set the PADD down, realizing that she wasn't going to get to read it while talking to Trip. "Yes, but I realize that the captain doesn't know everything."

"The crew is edgy, tension high. Not many people on security like the MACOs. Don't know why, but even Malcolm don't like 'em."

"It is logical to assume they feel displaced. Security is being subjugated by the MACOs. Perhaps some activities to integrate the two would be advisable."

"I'll talk to the cap'n about it."

"And everyone else."

"Most people are fine. Chef had a fit about a lack of strawberries in the Expanse and Hoshi is having visions, but other than that..."

T'Pol waited for him to continue but he didn't. "Other than that..." she prompted.

"Nothin'. We're headin' to some sort of meet with an alien causin' Hoshi's visions. Says he can help."

"Is there a chance it's a trap set by the Xindi?"

"The cap'n doesn't think so. He says this Tarquin fellow told Hoshi things that only a telepath could've known."

"That would seem to make him less trustworthy, not more."

"That's what I said, but the cap'n is set on going to meet him."

T'Pol glanced at the clock and saw that she was due at Starfleet in ten minutes. "I must leave or be late. We'll speak later?"

"Yeah. Always. Later." Trip gave a small wave before ending the transmission. A wave? He waved? How stupid could he be? Who waved? Idiots that who! Trip continued an inner tirade on how stupid waving was even as he rose to go to engineering.

Trip had been communicating with T'Pol almost weekly since they'd entered the Expanse and he still wasn't quite comfortable with it. Before this, he and T'Pol had been friends, but not super close. She and Jon had been like that. It was only after his little Cogenitor incident that they'd become closer, but even that hadn't been on this level. Trip felt as if he could tell T'Pol anything, but doubted that he ever would. She was an alien. Exotic and beautiful. It was only in recent times that he had realized that Malcolm was right, and that T'Pol was quite attractive. Not that Trip had been looking at her bum or anything like Malcolm. For Trip it was her face. Angular but solid, with those sleekly pointed eyes that mirrored the points of her ears. Her lips. Her lips were lush and soft-looking, dominating her face, and drawing his gaze every time.

"Commander?"

Trip broke out of his reverie to see that he had almost run into a crewman while he thought. With a quick apology, he continued his way to Engineering, thinking to himself that maybe it was time he got laid or something.

* * *

T'Pol pulled on her jacket and left her home, heading for a small pub nearby called "The Poison Apple". This meeting had to be clandestine, or so the mysterious figure had told her. T'Pol wouldn't have even considered attending the meeting if not for the details the person had given, proving that whoever it was and whoever they worked for were watching T'Pol and monitoring her actions.

As T'Pol turned a corner, a young human jostled her, almost knocking her into the wall of a house and causing a sharp pain in her abdomen. Steadying herself with a hand on the wall, T'Pol spared him a small glance before trying to continue. Suddenly, the sharp pain got worse, and T'Pol lifted the hand she'd placed there up. It was covered in green blood. A lot of green blood.

T'Pol turned, trying to get a look at her assailant but the person was long gone. _So, that's what it is_, she thought to herself, _the meeting was setting me up for an assassination attempt_. T'Pol continued to work her way to the pub, knowing that her home was too far away to return to. She needed medical help, and she would prefer to go to a public place where her assailant could not assault her again.

However, she was growing weaker and weaker with every step. Every noise was startling to her, for in her condition she was hypersensitive. Every step became like agony, a pain that infiltrated every nerve in her body until she was a walking knot. T'Pol knew that she was making noises with every step but it was only a few minutes to relative safety and help.

The Poison Apple stood on the corner, it's sign, a half-eaten apple, swinging in the breeze. There was a storm coming in from the ocean, bringing the scent of salt with it. T'Pol used the last of her strength to get up the steps and through the door. Before she could call attention to herself, a shadow detached itself from the wall just inside and pulled her outside again. Whoever it was started pulling her down the street, and T'Pol was too weak to resist.

"You took long enough. I said seven. You must understand that this is just as dangerous for me as for you. I-...why are you hunching like that? You're bringing attention. Stand up straight." The man barely spared T'Pol a glance as he kept on pulling her. Finally T'Pol pulled back.

They stopped in the shadow of a large skyscraper, with him sighing in frustration. "What? Why aren't we moving?"

"I'm hurt," T'Pol replied breathlessly.

"What do you-...oh, dear Lord. Why didn't you say something!" The man hunched down and pulled T'Pol's hands away to look at her wound.

T'Pol found his concern amusing. She smiled a little. "You were busy."

The man scoffed and took out his communicator. "General? I've met the target and we're moving North. Bring a medical officer with you. She's been injured."

Through the haze of pain, T'Pol heard a slightly familiar voice. "How bad?"

"If she gets help, not that bad."

"We'll meet you at the rendezvous point."

"Over and out." The man wrapped his arm around T'Pol's waist and started pulling her along the street again. After ten minutes of walking, he stopped. Satisfied with their hiding place, he turned to T'Pol. "How are you doing?"

"I am...going to be...fine," T'Pol said after a few tries. "Did you try...to...kill me?"

He laughed. "No...we're trying to save you. And the rest of the world at that."

"I don't believe you."

"We didn't think you would. So, we got a reference."

T'Pol furrowed her brow in confusion. "A reference?"

"Someone who will avow to our honesty. He'll make sure you know that we're here to help."

T'Pol swayed and watched him through the slowly narrowing black tunnel. "I don't feel well."

The man smiled as a van slowly came around the corner. "You will."

T'Pol slumped in his arms, as emerald blood dripped to the ground slowly.

* * *

"What the hell is goin' on, cap'n?" Trip said as he took his station on the bridge.

"Apparently, Mr. Tarquin has convinced Hoshi to stay behind. Or so he says," the Captain explained.

"Hoshi? Nah. What's really goin' on?"

"We're not sure. We had been convincing Tarquin to let us speak to Hoshi, but suddenly the transmission cut out and now there's no answer."

Trip scratched his head. "What are you plannin'?"

"I'm thinking it's time to go down for a visit," Archer gestured to Malcolm, who without a word joined him in the turbolift. Seconds later, the ensign sitting at the communications desk opened up a channel, however. Trip sighed in relief as Hoshi's face came up.

"Trip? Do you think you could send a ship to come get me?"

"The captain and Mal are already on their way down...you okay, Hosh?"

Hoshi looked tired and blinked blankly for a minute. "No. I need to go."

Trip nodded and after the transmission ended, he signaled to the captain to hurry it up. Hoshi had looked battered and so alone on the screen that it made him wonder what he looked like to T'Pol. He'd thought that Hoshi was one of the few people to be thriving in the Expanse. If she wasn't looking good, how would he, someone who was drowning look?

She wasn't answering. It had been three days and T'Pol wasn't answering. Not once. And she wasn't picking up her messages. He'd hacked through the security and figured that out. Why wasn't she there? What had happened? Trip wondered all these things as he left message after message for her.

Finally, he called Admiral Forrest in desperation.

"Admiral?"

"Commander. This is a surprise," the man looked uncomfortable. He was avoiding Trip's gaze and doing a bad job of hiding it.

"I was wondering about Commander T'Pol. I haven' been able to reach her."

The Admiral sighed. "I'm surprised that you haven't been informed. The commander is in the hospital. She was in accident, she's listed as recovering. She'll be home soon."

"What happened?" Trip asked, panic and worry on his voice.

"No one's sure. She hasn't woken up and been able to tell us. I'm sorry, Commander. I must go. I have a meeting in a few minutes." The Admiral cut the transmission off before he cracked. The gentleman across from him smiled.

"Don't worry, Admiral. That was an excellent performance. No one will doubt the story in the least."

"But he cares for her. Sooner or later he's going to want to get into contact with her," the Admiral stressed, not believing for a moment that they could pull this off.

"He will...or he'll contact who he thinks is T'Pol," the man explained as he rose and dusted himself off. "I have planned for all contingencies. Do not worry. The situation is under control."

* * *

Wow...something has happened...and I warn you...it's going to get either funnier or odder...I'm not sure which yet.

**Trisuns5**: You thought last chapter was a cliffie? Oh, baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet.

And thanks to the rest of my reviewers and readers: **hanselel, rjgintrepid, **and** LucreziaNoin86.**

Remember...I love reviews...and I update faster when I get them.


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